The Duke's Unexpected Temptation - Chapter 1

Sienna scuffed her boots on the gravel pathway, a puff of grey dust rising pleasingly in front of her.

‘You’re damaging the path.’

Sienna paused, her foot dangling in the air. She had no idea where the voice had come from.

‘Well,’ she said, addressing the garden at large, ‘as it is my path, I am not worried about it.’ That statement wasn’t completely true. The garden belonged to her sister, Amelia, and Amelia’s husband, James, but as Sienna lived here when not partaking in the London Season, she thought of it as hers.

There was no response. Perhaps she had imagined the slightly scolding, haughty male voice. Goodness knew the last few days of her sister’s house party were enough to send anyone out of their mind. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with her sister’s lovely guests. Among them were Ash’s, James’s preferred name, three closest friends, Adam Mayhew, Ezra Hart and Archibald Hawksmere, or Hawk, as he preferred to be called by those who knew him. Sienna could now say that she did. The three men were as close as brothers, having met in university and then strengthening their bond while serving in the war and spending a lot of time with Ash, as did their wives with Amelia. They had all married over the course of one Season and even two years later were sickeningly in love, which meant that Sienna got to see a lot of that devotion first hand. It was enough to drive someone, who had failed to find a match in three whole Seasons of being out, to distraction. She got ready to scuff the path again.

‘Do not do it.’

She swivelled, hands on hips. That voice definitely hadn’t been in her head, but where was the speaker? Ornamental trees lined the walkway, but she could see no one else about.

‘If you do it, you will create work for the gardener. Or perhaps you are spoilt enough that you do not care.’

That was too much. ‘How dare you! I am a very considerate person.’

The unseen male made a disparaging sound.

‘Well,’ she muttered, spinning slowly in a circle. ‘Well.’

She was thoughtful, wasn’t she? The servants all seemed to like her, although she supposed they were paid to be pleased to see her. Perhaps she was too self-indulgent; maybe that was why she was yet to find a husband. No, it wasn’t that. It was that she had not found a man to her taste.

‘I am pleased to see you have come to your senses,’ said the disembodied voice when she didn’t carry on kicking the gravel.

‘No, I will not have a conversation with a madman. Show yourself or I will kick every last stone off this path and blame it on you.’

‘That hardly seems likely, given that you do not know with whom you are conversing.’ There was a brief pause. ‘The endeavour would also require a large amount of effort.’

She gasped at the implied insult. ‘You are exceptionally rude.’ She tapped her foot against the path. Should she say it or was it a step too far? To hell with it, her hidden tormentor obviously had no such qualms. ‘You are also a coward, lecturing me while hiding.’

The tree to her right sighed. ‘Fine.’

As she watched, long legs appeared, followed by the rest of her antagonist.

‘I should have known,’ she said when the figure revealed himself, exquisitely tailored clothes clinging to a tall frame. Two spots of uncharacteristic colour brushed along high cheekbones, a startling contrast with the rest of his pale skin.

‘Indeed,’ said the interloper. ‘Perhaps you will understand why I was reluctant to step into full view of the house.’

‘Quite.’ If they were seen by a meddlesome guest, or heaven forbid, her sister, then rumours of a romantic nature might start; rumours neither of them wanted bandied about. A breeze rustled the tree next to him, unfortunately not strong enough for a branch to poke him in the eye. ‘As it turns out, I have remembered urgent correspondence I need to write.’

He gave her a bow, somehow managing to inject it with disdain.

‘Good day, Your Grace,’ she said, gathering her pride and stalking away from her sister’s worst house guest, the insufferable Duke of Berferdshire, Nolan Sefton. The man her sister and her meddlesome friends thought would, for some inexplicable reason, make her an ideal husband.